Redefine
by obaona
Summary: Methos and Cassandra, at the last. (Vignette.)


Title: Redefine

Summary: Methos and Cassandra, at the last.

A/N: My first in this fandom – turned out differently than I expected, especially as I intended this to be happy originally. I think it's a little unusual, but hopefully in a good way. ;) I hope you enjoy.

Feedback is, as always and ever, treasured and adored. :)

* * *

"There was a man who thought he knew everything.

"He lived and died, over and over again, and he thought to himself, he knows everything of death. Death by flogging, by dehydration, by pure misery and pain. The days when he ran with his brothers and sisters – who weren't really his siblings at all – were pale, pale like nothing, and long gone besides. He thought he knew everything, didn't he?"

[silence]

"But he didn't. A town and a people, suspicious of a stranger . . . and then hating, fearing, and they drove him out when he died for them, and came back after they had wept and asked for just that. Six months in the desert, and it all became redefined, as he died over and over, and scavengers would tear at his body, until he revived, and they were frightened off. And then it was like the earth itself shook, when another man came, and helped him to his feet, and promised him more – a new redefining, a new way of life."

[attention]

"He thought he knew everything of death, but he didn't. He knew little of killing. He had killed in battle, had killed for revenge, but never had he killed for joy. And his friend taught him it all, and he learned voraciously, until it was under his skin, was as much a part of him as all else he had ever learned. He killed until the seas were red with it in his mind, and his friend there for him all the while. And then there were more – two more, and again this man learned something new. Companionship, brotherhood. He thought he knew everything, and he realized all over again that he didn't."

[devotion lost]

"He loved his brothers. They were everything to him, and in them the world existed bright and new; he was already old, and they young."

[can't look]

"And then one day, this man took a woman, an Immortal, and made her his. He played with her as one would with a toy, but a toy doesn't scream with hatred. A toy . . . doesn't curl up against you for warmth, even while hating the feel of your skin. A toy doesn't make you feel more than the pleasure you get in playing with it."

[sorrow]

"And this man learned again what he had forgotten: he learned of life. And the toy ran away, and he let her, because he suddenly realized his toy wasn't a toy, his toy, and it was only right she escape. Wasn't that so?"

[can't speak]

"And life was redefined, and this man saw his brothers anew: one, as the manipulator, one as the insane creature he was, and the last as the brutal child with gentleness. All monsters, and as they were his brothers, that made him one, too. He kept killing because he didn't know what to do next, and he didn't want to leave. He never forgot brotherhood, and he never forgot twisted love, or loyalty. But he ran, eventually – and kept running. He stole away without taking a head, unable to bring himself to do it, even though in this redefined world, he knew he should."

[how does she know?]

"He ran, and he saw it all without others defining it. Didn't he? He ran and saw sunrise after sunrise, marveling at how different they all were. And at night, he felt his brothers and the killing under his skin, and tried to tear it out. He was wealthy but lived in burrows of self-hatred. He smiled at the world, and it smiled back, but that wasn't enough, because it was still all under his skin."

[no]

"He learned. Knowledge became his constant companion, even closer than the death that still clung so near at times. Knowledge was freedom, the redefining of understanding. It was everything, constantly changing. He understood it, he knew it, he added to its great halls. It was his joy."

[why?]

"He lived centuries in different lives, the learning common in all of them. He realized his own foolishness, in thinking he knew everything; in knowing he knew nothing, he gained in knowledge. He learned to love. And lose it, and learn it all again, and he never regretted it."

[stop]

"He saw Caesar to fall betrayal, and knew in some irrevocable way he was watching history, and he wondered if he would remember this when no one else would – and if they did, would they see the sorrow in Caesar's eyes? Would they ever really know the sting of that betrayal, as deeply as he did? Would they know the pain of the betrayer and the betrayed? He left, and the world went on, and he watched dozens of other moments, some remembered by history, and some forgotten, but he knew they were all important. He wondered if anyone else ever would, and doubted it . . . and felt alone."

[please]

"And he walked one time to Judea, and was in awe all over again, how little he knew, how much he had thought he knew. He learned of true forgiveness and grace, and wept."

[don't make me cry]

"He learned to love and heal, and heal with love. He fought his past with every action he tried to do that was right. And knew all over again how little he knew, because he could still take only so much, and sometimes he ran, feeling like a coward because he wanted to live. Long ago, he had lived because the alternative was unthinkable, but he then lived because it was living. He lost his name, and became a myth."

[can't know]

"He loved a girl named Sara. She was young and beautiful, but terribly scarred – her soul hid in her blue eyes, and her hands were always in her lap, folded in. He loved her, and married her, even though in the thirty years she lived he was never once in her bed. He saw her, and saw the pain of her life, and knew he had inflicted this same pain on others. He taught her to laugh, spent every moment making her happy, gave her a dog and showed her how different all the sunrises were. And when she died, he knew he'd done right, in some way. He grieved for her, and everywhere he went, he tried to change, to be the person she had seen him to be."

[confusion and anger]

"He became a doctor, a smith, and even once spent two decades addicted to opium. And he learned, and changed. He healed others, and felt some measure of peace within himself. He put down his sword, and tried – tried so hard, to be . . . that. And he became tired, and so alone. People spoke of his myth, and when he went home, he laughed himself to tears for how little they knew, and how little he had learned. And one day, a man came, one with a certain Scottish accent, and he looked into his eyes, and knew – this man could take his head. Could take his Quickening, and be worthy of the power, and even handle of the curse of his personality. And he was tired, and wasn't it the right thing? Wasn't it?"

[why this?]

"But things didn't go that way. Life is unexpected; it surprised him. He met a friend, and he met a woman. He met Alexa. And he loved her – loved her breathlessly, willing to give up eternity and Immortality for her, and all the new sunrises in the world. And lost her, vowing to keep her memory. I'll . . . I will keep her memory."

[beginning]

"It was the knife that redefined the world again. His brother was back, and wanted him back – what he had been. He wondered, briefly, before taking his brother's hand, if he still lived for the sake of living, in between those moments of graceful joy, and realized it didn't matter. He played the game, as he done so years before, and he did it well. Even the arrival of the toy that was no longer a toy did not make his determination falter. And his brothers died, one by one."

[I know]

"When he killed Silas, he grieved, because he had thought that brother the most innocent, or perhaps merely the least guilty – and he found in his Quickening twisted darkness, and realized how foolish he had been. And how he loved them all still, because they had loved him. And when the toy that was no longer a toy stood over him, everything was redefined, because he knew these were his last moments. He inhaled . . ."

[exhale]

"It was so pure and sweet, and it was his last breath."

[understanding]

"I took your head, Methos."

[acceptance]

"I have your Quickening in me now. And I understand. I forgive you, Methos. I forgive you it all."

[love]

"Goodbye," Cassandra said, and opened her eyes, seeing the Glenfinnin sunrise, new all over again.

[peace]

[fin]


End file.
